


Cigarettes at 3Am

by thatgaywizard



Series: Wingrove/Harchester [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016), Supernatural
Genre: Denim Bois, Hurt/Comfort, I don't deserve to be writing this part yet, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, billy is a little broken, boys like these can't wall all that shit up forever, cigarettes at 3AM, flash backs to possession, separate beds one room..., so is dean, the pain starts to seep through the cracks, there's like 20 chapters before this can even happen, they have issues with strong male figures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgaywizard/pseuds/thatgaywizard
Summary: Billy has flashbacks to losing control. Most nights he hardly sleep, and when he does he's back in The Upside Down again, lost in the hellish void. The only one who sees him struggling is Dean,and maybe Dean is the only one he's willing to let see him like this...
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Billy Hargrove, Dean/Billy, Wingrove - Relationship
Series: Wingrove/Harchester [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651864
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Cigarettes at 3Am

Billy wakes up screaming most nights.

Dean is well acquainted with this. He did his time, years of it, waking up in a cold sweat with phantoms running across his skin and no idea where he was. Sam was there sometimes but he barely recognized him, barely remembered anyone else, only the suffocating helplessness, only Castiel’s calming powers could clear his mind.

And so he knows exactly what to expect when he grabs Billy’s shoulders firmly but gently to shake him out of his nightmare, hoping that will be enough to do the trick.

But he doesn’t even get the chance because Billy is awake suddenly, eyes flaring open, gasping and panting, short cries of terror still flying from his mouth. He claws at Dean’s arms, at his own chest, as if he’s trying to push something away.

“It’s alright. It’s just me,” Dean says quickly. “Billy you’re okay. _Hey-look at me-_ ”

Billy’s attention tunnels in on Dean abruptly and his hands are still in front of his own chest and face defensively, palms up as if he’s under attack. He looks totally lost and terrified, and it takes a half minute for his breathing to become normal.

Dean talks him down with soft meaningless words, drawing him back into the space of the dark hotel room.

Billy’s mouth opens and he sucks in a deep breath that makes his bare chest swell and when he exhales it comes out in a horrible sob. He covers his face with his arms.

And Dean doesn’t really think about it when he sits down and puts his arms around the other man, cradling him to his chest as Billy sobs brokenly, because it’s the thing he should do, the only thing he can do, and he’s so…

 _angry_.

Because it’s not fair. It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be this fucked up. Nothing should be this fucked up. Murder and theft and assault, it’s all shit and it’s the regular shit most people are afraid of- things he was once afraid of. You live, you suffer, you die, the end-

But no,

not for them.

Human cruelty doesn’t scare him anymore. Most people know bad from good but most people don’t know _this_. And most people haven’t been treated like hosts to merciless, behemoth, parasites. _He hopes_. And there’s some irony in being human, in humanity thinking it was them at the top of the food chain for so long and thinking nothing could really hurt them but each other…

before the others came.

Fortunately most people are oblivious, thanks to people like Dean, but Billy isn’t, and Billy’s demons might have a different name or face but they are pretty damn similar and just as hideous.

Thankfully right now they are alone. They are safe and if they are lucky no one and nothing is wondering where they are. Yet, Dean feels so fucking helpless.

Because Billy is pleading to no one as he cries, “I don’t wan’t to see this anymore! I don’t want- _pleeease- oh god- please- I don’t want to be there anymore! ”_

He writhes on the bed a bit like he’s in pain. He’s not comfortable to hold, he is about Dean’s size and all his muscles are tensed right now.

So he holds him and waits for it to pass. One arm under Billy’s neck and one hand on his back and Billy isn’t really holding him back. He’s got one arm tucked against his own chest and one hand is clenched in the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before Billy goes still and quiet, although Dean doesn’t realize it immediately, Billy’s hair is brushing his chin and he is lost in unpleasant thoughts. When he notices Billy is slack in his arms now he decides to stay there instead of pulling away, thinking maybe Billy will fall back asleep, but after a moment Billy pushes himself away, unsteadily gets out of the bed and stumbles into the bathroom to throw up.

After another minute or so Dean hears the toilet flush and the sink runs and Billy slowly walks out silhouetted against the light from the bathroom window, he’s just in his boxers. He braces himself against the door frame.

Dean is sitting on his own twin bed now.

“Sorry,” Billy mumbles into the room, as if he left the TV on too loud or something and woke Dean up, but not like he just had a complete mental break down at three in the morning. He sits down on the bed with his back to Dean.

“Don’t worry about it.” The atmosphere is awkward now and Dean is tired but he’s prepared to not get much sleep. “Can I get you anything?” He says as gruff and casual as possible, hoping Billy won’t take it the wrong way, won’t feel like Dean is treating him like he’s weak.

Billy shakes his head no, but doesn’t voice it. 

Dean puts two of the small plastic bottles of water from his duffel bag on the nightstand next to him anyway, does it quietly enough Billy doesn’t turn to look. Then he lays down on his back resting his arms on his stomach. 

“Every time I close my eyes I’m back in _that_ _place_ ,” he hears Billy say. He’s still facing the other side of the room. “I can’t even tell if it’s real or a nightmare half the time. I wake up and _I can’t move_ ….” his voices gets a little louder as he says this. Dean can hear the frustration in his voice, can hear how sick of it he is. “I wake up and I can’t move and it’s like it’s back…and then I wake up again and I realize it wasn’t real. But even then, this could all just be some fucking mind fuck.” He turns his head just enough that the profile of his face is visible to Dean. “ I don’t even wanna shut my eyes anymore. I don’t know where I’m gonna fuckin’ be when I open them again…”

Dean wishes he had something useful to say but he’s got nothing. He can’t think of anything that would be any kind of comfort, accept- “It gets easier. It might take a while but it’ll get easier. That shit’ll fade. You won’t think about it as much. It’s gonna suck for awhile but eventually… you know…”

“How do you forget killing someone? How do you forget blacking out and waking up to a murder, realizing you did it?”

“You didn’t do it though.” And shit this is another one Dean knows about. “I wish I could say I don’t know what that’s like but I’ve done some pretty terrible shit and I was- I punished myself for it for a long time. You don’t have to do that. If it wasn’t you it would have been someone else. You were in the car, man, but you weren’t driving it.” 

Billy pulls his legs up on the bed turning halfway around. “You don’t have any cigarettes do you?”

“Nah, I don’t smoke...could go down to the seven eleven real quick if you want.”

“Yeah- wait. No, shit I don’t have any money.”

“It’s fine. Come on.” 

Fifteen minutes later they’re standing outside the quick stop and Dean hands the cigarettes to Billy. “We’re gonna have to get you an ID buddy, or make one anyway,” he tells him. 

Billy lights a cigarette as they walk back to the motel. The packaging is new but the taste is still the same and it’s comforting. It’s quiet out but the rush of cars from the freeway is a constant sound in the distance. Billy is still tense, eyeing the dark bushes suspiciously from time to time. 

“I can’t believe how fucking expensive this shit is now,” he scoffs.

“Gotta love inflation. You know those are bad for you right?” Dean says because Billy has probably never seen anything put out by Cancer Prevention Society in the last forty years, but even as the words leave his mouth he realizes how stupid they sound. Billy looks at him with cigarette hanging off his lip and his face is saying _are you fucking kidding me right now?_ Dean immediately is reminded of how he was “re-virginized” when they brought him back which gave him a clean physical slate, and how if anything is gonna hurt or kill him it’s unlikely to be cigarettes and booze. “Yeeah never mind.”

“Thanks _dad_ ,” Billy mutters anyways around the cigarette .

Dean rolls his eyes, wondering when he became Sam in this relationship. 

When they get to the porch of their bottom floor room, Billy stands outside to finish. He offers the cigarette to Dean but Dean shakes his head. He’s about to walk inside, about to leave Billy to finish up on the porch and he sees Billy see him doing it. Billy’s eyes flick nervously across the dark lot, it’s not obvious, most people wouldn’t see it, but Dean sees it. So he leans against the doorway and stays out there with him. He’s not fond of the smoke but he’s also not overly bothered by it. It reminds him of being younger, of being in bars and having less to worry about, of Sammy’s disgusted face whenever someone lights one up around him…he’s gonna have to get back to wherever his family is eventually but at least this place seems safe for now.

Billy doesn’t smoke the whole cigarette. When he decides he’s done he flicks it way out into the middle of the lot.

They get back inside and they’re both more awake than they should be for the middle of the morning. They take off their jeans and Billy leaves his shirt on this time and they both fall back into their own beds. 

“Do you mind if I leave the light on for a bit?” Billy asks. He sounds defeated.

“Go for it. I can sleep through almost anything these day.”

“That bad, huh?”

“What?”

“You can sleep through almost anything but not me screaming like a little girl.”

“No I was…I was already awake.” It’s a lie but whatever.

Billy reaches over and turns on the small lamp next to his bed. Then he rolls over away from the light towards Dean. He looks at him openly, almost looks through him like he’s not there.

Dean’s eyelids feel heavy. His eyes sting. The light hurts but Billy’s eyes are blue still even in the shadows with the light behind him casting a soft yellow halo around his head and shoulder. He catches sight of the water bottle. 

“…Thanks.” 

“For what?”

“You know...”

Dean knows, even though it doesn’t seem like much. He closes his eyes for a minute and when he opens them again Billy’s eyes are closed. He watches him until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, wondering what he’s gonna do with this guy.

They both drift off to sleep again at some point because it’s suddenly 11:07 in bright green numbers according to the clock next to him, and the room is light and Billy is asleep still, he’s kicked the blankets off and he’s on his stomach face smushed against the bed, lips parted, totally out. 

The brightness of the room makes it seem surreal, as if all the nightmares and dark thoughts never happened and suddenly it’s just a normal, sunny, almost- afternoon.

They could probably use a normal sunny afternoon, Dean thinks. Fuck it. The other shit can wait.


End file.
